


Beefing Up for Beginners

by tenscupcake



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 05:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11052261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenscupcake/pseuds/tenscupcake
Summary: Rose and the Doctor have been reunited across dimensions, but their relationship is lagging. The Doctor finds something of Rose's that makes him fear it's because he isn't muscular enough for her. Insecurity, folly, and (of course) ample miscommunication ensue.





	Beefing Up for Beginners

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was an insaaaaaane whirlwind. Idea sparked to published in less than 48 hours. FUCKIN CRAZY.
> 
> Disclaimer, this was inspired by an episode of Fresh Off the Boat (s2e22 if you watch it). 
> 
> It's kinda fun and just a bit silly, if only in the premise... Okay, this is the silliest thing on this damn Earth BUT it could totally happen. Also, it's the first smut-less thing I've written in a long time. It's good to be clean every now and then! I had a ton of fun writing it, and I think that's the most important thing. I hope you guys enjoy it :)
> 
> Thanks to Amber for the beta!

When the Doctor and Rose were reunited a few months ago – when she beat the infinitely stacked odds and fought her way back to him across universes – he had a different concept of what their relationship would be like.

He thought it was implicit that they were a little more than friends now. She had told him she loved him just before they were separated. The metacrisis event had given her quasi-immortality like he has; in one impossible accident all his concerns about mismatched lifespans had vanished. He had kissed her, when the dust had settled after the multiverse was safe and the Earth was returned to its rightful coordinates in the universe. They’d had an audience, too, for that kiss: everyone on board the TARDIS had ‘ooh’ed and cheered like schoolchildren. If it was obvious to all them, he thought it would be obvious to Rose, too.

But ever since then, he’s been perplexed by how slow their relationship is progressing. In fact, he’s convinced it isn’t progressing at all.

He had kissed her again, after they’d saved a planet from a plague. And once more before she’d gone to sleep the other night. All three times, he had never been forceful; each kiss was quick, gentle, and innocent. And Rose hadn’t complained about any of them, or pulled away or looked disgusted.

But she still hasn’t _initiated_ a kiss. Or anything else romantic, for that matter. And sometimes, when she thinks he isn’t looking, there’s a certain way she looks at him. Like she’s disappointed in him. But he can’t for the life of him think of anything he’s done that may have disappointed her. For a while, he thought maybe she was just disappointed that he wasn’t quite how she remembered, and she had lost interest. But she wouldn’t have stayed here on the TARDIS if she didn’t love him anymore, would she?

At least, that was the conclusion he had come to.

And soon after, it occurred to him that it was possible he wasn’t being romantic enough.

So today, he had decided to take preemptive action on his latest theory.

It’s rare that they take a trip just to spend time alone; usually he purposely lands them in the midst of cities, surrounded by shops and bustling crowds of aliens everywhere they go. It’s more fun that way, he’s always thought. But this time, he took them somewhere remote where they couldn’t be interrupted. Determined to make her see it was intended to be a date, he spent the whole day laying it on thick. He set them up a picnic in a meadow of her _favorite flowers_. With a basket full of food that _he prepared himself_ while she was sleeping the night before. He wiped pesto sauce off her lip _with his thumb_. He took her to her favorite ice cream shop in the universe after that, on their least busy day of the year. He had licked from _her_ ice cream cone. But she had made nothing of it, and kept on eating it like nothing happened.

In fact, she acted like all of these gestures were innately platonic. He may as well have spent the day calling her ‘mate’ and thumping her on the back and inviting her out for a boys’ night at the pub, with how she reacted to all of it. It’s like she was totally oblivious that he was trying to tell her something. She didn’t appear to interpret anything he did all day as romantic at all. He even panicked, at one point, that she wasn’t getting his message and decided to be more direct. He’d gone in for a kiss, intending to make it a longer one this time, but she turned away just before he could touch her lips, calling his attention to a falling star in the sky that he didn’t even see. She _avoided_ kissing him. He thought she may have even been lying about seeing a falling star at all.

Yes, the Doctor is perplexed. And more than a little worried that she doesn’t love him anymore, after all, and simply hasn’t yet figured out how to let him down easy.

She had gone to bed with only the briefest of hugs and a quick ‘see you tomorrow mornin’!’ said with an amicable smile, and had been on her way.

He slumps down on the couch in the media room, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff. He pouts at the black screen opposite him, glaring at it like it’s somehow the one at fault. What is it Rose wants him to do? What more can he do to win back her affection? It seems like he’s tried everything. Slouching even more, he glances over to the shelves of videos. Maybe he should just put something on. Poking fun at some trashy sci-fi always lifts his spirits.

Reluctantly, he rolls listlessly off the couch to browse the appropriate shelf. He makes sure to select something extra stupid. Making nasty comments about it may be an outlet for some of this frustration. At least this way he won’t take it out on Rose or anyone else.

But when he goes to put the disc in, there’s an unfamiliar case sitting on top of the player.

_Magic Mike._

Huh.

Definitely not one from his collection.

Despite the misleading title, it doesn’t appear to be about magic. Five shirtless men are plastered on the cover, matching blue ties hanging superfluously around their necks. He recognizes a couple of the blokes; but can’t quite place which films he’s seen them in. They’re in a V formation on a stage with several spotlights, almost as though they’re putting on a show.

_“Fun, hot, and sexy!”_ a bolded blurb of a journalist’s review reads at the bottom. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was a film about male strippers.

Lifting up one corner cautiously, as though the case itself is dirty somehow, he picks it up and turns it over to see if there’s a synopsis on the back.

Several more photos of scantily clad men in raunchy poses assault his eyes before he’s able to zero in on the block of white text in the middle.

_Channing Tatum is electrifying as Magic Mike, an entrepreneur with many talents and loads of charm. Mike spends his days pursuing the American dream, from roofing houses to designing furniture. But at night… he’s just magic. The hot headliner in an all-male revue, Magic Mike has been rocking the stage at Club Xquisite for years, with his original style and over-the-top dance moves. Just as another summer heats up, an intriguing new woman enters his life, causing Mike to think twice about his future as a dancer._

Oh.

This is worse than he thought.

He at least places one of the actors (even if it is from a photo of him in nothing but a cowboy vest and hat): Matthew McConaghuey.

_Interstellar_ , that’s the film he knows him from. A creative, if grossly inaccurate, take on higher dimensions. Still, a film ahead of its time, if only in ambition.

Just to ensure it wasn’t a mistake that this case ended up atop the player, he pops it open. But alas, it’s empty. Frowning, he presses the eject button on the player, and much to his dismay, the machine spits a disc out of the slot, decorated with yet another image of the indecently dressed men on a stage.

Rose was in here the other night. She had said she was going to watch some telly while he was out shopping for parts. He invited her to come with – it was his favorite intergalactic market – but she insisted she was always bored while he was shopping for TARDIS parts, and that she needed a bit of rest, anyway.

There’s no one else on the ship. No one else _has been_ on the ship in the time between Rose’s visit to this room and this moment.

Rose was watching this.

He puts the disc back in the case, and grimaces down at it again.

These blokes are objectively masculine. Broad shoulders and defined abdominal muscles and square jaws. Masculinity is attractive to women, isn’t it? He always assumed so. Rose clearly likes this stuff.

He drops the case back onto the player as a realization hits him.

Is this why she hasn’t made a move? Does she not find him attractive?

She won’t let him kiss her, but she’ll spend her free time secretly watching sexy films starring half-naked men?

Maybe her time in the other universe gave her different tastes. Or maybe she’s never liked skinny blokes. She did supposedly love him, at one point, but maybe it was just his personality she fell for, and the thought of doing anything physical repulses her? It would explain a lot.

He realizes he is making a lot of assumptions. And it’s no secret he is mostly clueless when it comes to relationships, or knowing what turns women on. Or even what they like. But he can’t possibly ask Rose herself about this. Chances are, she would only confirm his suspicion that she wishes he were more fit, and he doesn’t know if he could handle such an actualization of his fears. He wishes there were someone else he could get advice from. Whenever he makes decisions that involve Rose by himself, they always seem to be the wrong ones. Especially these days.

Although… he does know a bloke with lots of experience seducing women. (And men, but, that’s much less relevant.)

Rose is fast asleep, and chances are she’ll never find out if he takes a little detour in the middle of the night to visit an old friend…

It seems like his best option at the moment.

Without another moment’s hesitation, he stuffs the offending title into his jacket and skips out of the media room to head back to the console room.

\---

“Doctor!” Ianto announces with glee as he catches sight of him walking through the door.

Unsurprisingly, the man is dressed smartly: a black pinstriped suit with a pink shirt and tie.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, walking around the desk to greet him properly.

“Hello, Ianto Jones! Good to see you.” He gives Ianto most charming smile and delays answering his question, hoping it’ll make up for the fact that he’s not here to see him. They’d never met in person, only through video chat, and it is nice to finally see him in the flesh. Ianto takes one of his hands in both of his, shaking it with a nervous chuckle.

“Nice suit by the way,” the Doctor adds, nodding down to his wardrobe, then to his own. “Pinstripes. Very fashionable.”

“I agree, sir.” Ianto nods, beaming at him.

“I came to see Jack, though, actually, is he here?”

“He actually stepped out to pick up some food, but he should be back any…”

“Doctor!” Jack’s voice booms from behind him. He wheels around just in time to see him dropping a few boxes of pizza and a case of beer onto a nearby table before he strides over to him.

“Hey…” the Doctor tries to take a step back to avoid what he knows is coming, but it happens anyway. Jack throws his arms around him and envelops him in a hug, lifting him clear off the ground for a moment.

“Never expected to see you again so soon!” Jack slaps him on the back a few times as he releases him. “Where’s Rose?” he asks, glancing around expectantly.

“It’s only me,” the Doctor says. “She’s asleep.”

Jack unexpectedly chortles, punching him playfully in the shoulder this time. “Course she is. Wore her out, didn’t ya, tiger?”

“Oh my,” the Doctor mutters under his breath, embarrassment bubbling up in his gut. He always seems to forget just how shamelessly inappropriate this man is, but it’s never long before he’s reminded again.

“Right,” the Doctor says, addressing Jack at a normal volume this time. “Yes. Listen, do you think we could talk… in private, for a tick?”

“Is something up?” Jack suddenly sobers up.

“No, just… wanted to chat.” He overstates his casual tone a little bit on the word ‘chat,’ and Jack cocks his head to the side, skeptical. Still, he doesn’t question it.

“Sure.” Jack nods. “Come and get it, guys,” he calls loudly to what he guesses are out-of-sight Torchwood employees waiting on the pizza. “We’re celebrating,” he adds quietly to the Doctor. “Finished up a long case today. Real nasty one.” Jack takes a paper plate from a stack and puts five slices of a veggie and meat conglomeration onto it for himself, then turns to the Doctor. “Want any?”

“No, ta,” he sighs, already getting impatient.

“Suit yourself.” Jack shrugs one shoulder.

He tears off a beer from the pack and nods him in the direction of the nearest hallway, just as employees start to pour in.

They’re caught up for several more minutes as the Doctor says hello to those he has met before, and Jack introduces him to the ones he hasn’t. And several more minutes as each of them insists on personally thanking the Doctor for all his service to the planet, and he thanks them awkwardly while insisting that it’s no trouble and he’s really nothing special.

They finally sit down in a spacious office with the door closed, and Jack sits down with his feet up on the oversized desk, tearing into his first slice of pizza.

“So, what’s up?” he says with his mouth full of cheese.

“Well it’s… it’s about Rose.”

Jack narrows his eyes and stares at him like he’s being pranked. It’s a few moments before he swallows his bite of pizza.

“Don’t tell me you came for sex tips?”

“No!” the Doctor shouts, looking around as though to ensure no one else heard his remark, though there’s no one else in the room. “Of course not. Not ever.” He shakes his head at the man’s audacity. “But… I do need advice.”

“Well, what is it?” He pops the cap off his bottle with a hiss and takes a sip.

“Rose and I haven’t actually, erm… what I mean is she hasn’t… we aren’t…”

“You haven’t shagged yet?”

He sighs and grumbles, scandalized yet again by Jack’s brazenness, but affirms his suspicion anyway.

“No.” He shakes his head, disappointed to confess it out loud.

“How come?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know. I thought it was something she wanted, so I’ve been trying to show her I’m ready for… that. I’ve kissed her. I’ve tried a few other… things.”

“What sort of things?” He looks mildly intrigued, like he’s imagining dirty things in his head.

“Romantic things,” he grits out. He feels excessively stupid saying it out loud.

“Oh,” Jack says, surprised. “Damn. I’d pay money to see that. What’d you do?”

He explains their date yesterday, and Rose’s reaction to it.

“Hmm.” Jack pulls a confused face, seeming as puzzled by it as the Doctor is. It’s not very reassuring.

“You think she’s just not interested?” asks the Doctor.

“That wouldn’t make much sense.”

“No?”

“No,” Jack scoffs. “Rose is crazy about you.”

“Is she?” He tugs on his ear.

Jack puts his feet back down on the floor, and looks at him like he’s a complete nutter.

“What makes you think she isn’t?”

“Well…” the Doctor breaks eye contact in favor of staring down at Jack’s desk. It’s a nice cherry wood.

“Well, what?”

The Doctor reluctantly pulls the Blu-ray disc out of his jacket and sets it on the desk next to Jack’s plate of pizza.

“She was watching this.”

Jack glances down at the title, then looks up at him with an impish grin.

“An excellent choice.”

“You’ve seen it?”

“Of –”

“What am I saying, of course you’ve seen it…” the Doctor mutters. “But why would Rose want to watch something like this, but not want to… you know?”

“I wouldn’t read too much into it. She probably just watched it for fun. Believe it or not, sometimes humans think looking at other attractive humans is fun.” He leans back in his chair again, taking another sip of his drink.

The Doctor frowns, even more perplexed. “But she could just look at me, if she wanted. But she isn’t.”

“Well…” Jack’s voice climbs up an octave as he draws out the word, like he’s hesitating to tell him something.

“What? Am I not attractive enough, is that it?”

Jack sets his bottle on the desk and pushes his plate to the side a little. He leans over on his elbows, giving him his devout attention.

“I won’t lie to you. You don’t look like these guys.” He nods down to the film. “But I really… _really_ don’t think it’s that.”

“But these blokes are all muscular and toned. And I’m… not.”

“You think she cares about that?”

“I don’t know,” he confesses. “Do you think she would?”

“I mean, you are a bit shrimpy this time around,” he says, sizing him up a bit. “But I’d still absolutely hit that.”

“Ugh,” the Doctor pulls a face. “Not what I asked.”

“I’m just saying.” Jack puts his hands in the air in a gesture of innocence. “I don’t think that’s what it is.”

“’Shrimpy,’ though,” the Doctor steers the conversation back to safer territory. He was unfamiliar with the term. “What’s that mean?”

“You’re thin, that’s all.”

“Right,” he sighs. “Something Donna never missed an opportunity to remind me of.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Jack says.

Says the bloke whose suspenders can barely contain his pectorals.

“You’re one to talk,” the Doctor gestures to his much wider frame.

Jack wags an eyebrow, chuffed. “Thanks.” He tucks into his pizza again.

“I guess your last incarnation was a bit more… filled out,” Jack says after a few moments of chewing. “And Rose did meet that one first. It couldn’t hurt to bulk up a little, if you want to, but…”

The Doctor doesn’t hear the rest of Jack’s sentence. He’s suddenly struck with a dreadful epiphany. His last incarnation _was_ substantially more brawny. It was a characteristic he needed at the time, as he was born in the middle of a grisly war. It’s certainly possible that since Rose had fallen for that version, she has been disappointed in his lanky frame ever since he regenerated. She was rather heartbroken for a while after he changed. Given the current evidence, it seems likely that Rose likes her men big and strong. If he can, as Jack put it, ‘bulk up a bit,’ maybe then Rose will be ready to take the next step.

“Okay?” Jack asks for a response to a statement or question he hadn’t heard.

The Doctor nods slowly.

“Right then.” The Doctor leaps to his feet, scooping up the film and stuffing it back in his jacket. “Thanks for the help.” He gives Jack a two-finger salute and turns on his heels to walk away.

“Can’t you stay for a little bit? You just got here.”

The Doctor turns around to see Jack’s arms outstretched, his hands upturned in confused accusation.

“No time to waste.”

“All right.” He looks disappointed, but concedes. “Come on, I’ll walk you out,” he says, standing up.

“Don’t be strangers, okay?” Jack says as they make their way back to the building entrance. “Come back soon. And bring Rose. I want to see how this works out.”

“We’ll try to stop by for a proper trip soon.” It’s not exactly a lie, but he is stretching the truth a bit. The Doctor respects Jack for everything he’s done, and he wishes there was something he could do to help him. His particular brand of immortality is a curse he wouldn’t wish on anyone. But, though Rose loves his company, the Doctor doesn’t relish it. He was only here for ten minutes and Jack said more inappropriate things than he can count.

Jack looks like he doesn’t quite believe him, but he doesn’t argue further.

He gives him one final, crushing hug at the door.

“Take care of yourself.”

\---

As soon as the Doctor pilots the TARDIS back into the vortex, he runs straight back to his room, passing by his bed to duck straight into the en suite. After a few minutes fumbling with the knot in his tie, and a few more spent unfastening numerous buttons, he finally pulls the tie out from his collar and wrestles off his jacket and shirt and throws it all the floor. Damn form fitting suit. He pulls off the last layer over his head – a simple white t-shirt – and adds it to the pile.

The Doctor doesn’t spend much time contemplating his reflection. Well, not his nude one. He does have to spend a fair amount of time at the mirror to style his hair each morning. He did take a good long look at himself the first day he regenerated, as he always does, to take stock of what had changed and how much. He hadn’t considered, at the time, that he might be distastefully thin.

But now, the reflection staring back at him is just that. His shoulders aren’t broad, his chest muscles don’t bulge out. There are no lines on his stomach defining his abdominal muscles. He tightens his abs as hard as he can, and a few lines appear, but only two muscles really show near his ribs. Where are the rest? It’s not like he has much fat to speak of that’s covering them up. He sighs, relaxing again.

After a moment, he tries to flex his chest muscles, holding his arms out in front of him, bent at the elbow like he’s seen blokes in fitness catalogues do. A few extra sinews poke out of his neck, and it does make his chest look firmer, but it also somehow gets even more flat. Stretched out, rather than puffed out.

In a final effort, he pulls his arms up and slightly back behind him, elbows bent, fists pointed toward the ceiling. Another move he’s seen in magazines and films. His deltoids bulge up a little, but there is no definition to either bicep. Overall, he looks like all connective tissue, no muscle. Not appealing in any way.

Dropping his arms to his sides in defeat, he steps a little closer to the mirror. He was always happy with this face. It’s a face Rose seems to like. And there’s no denying he got lucky with this hair. He runs a hand through it, still impressed by how well it holds up even after a full day of activity. Rose seems to like touching it, too. But now he’s seeing his hair and his face as just two pieces of a much larger puzzle. And it seems like all the other pieces are not to Rose’s liking. For a brief second he falls victim to panic and insanity, considering what his chances are of becoming more muscular if he regenerates right now.

But there is a less morbid way of doing it, even if it is more work.

Despite his physique, he’s not actually scrawny. Gallifreyans pack more power per unit volume than humans do. He’s probably as strong as a bloke 50% thicker than he is.

But looks seem to matter more than he thought.

Jack said he could stand to bulk up a bit, and Gallifreyans do tend to respond very well to physical training.

Putting on some muscle – how hard could it be?

Tired of looking at himself, he puts his clothes back on before he heads back to the media room.

The Doctor has a large film collection, but he knows for a fact he doesn’t have a hard copy of what he’s looking for. He’s going to have to retrieve something from the TARDIS’ database. But to his surprise, when he asks her for assistance, the TARDIS seems reluctant to help him. In fact, she seems to think it’s a silly request.

“But it’s what Rose wants!” he insists. The TARDIS still seems unconvinced, but eventually gives up and uploads something to the player for him, though not without an exaggerated mental equivalent of a sigh.

Affronted by her lack of faith in him, he flops down onto the couch and mashes down on the power button for the telly, more frustrated than ever. Intent on ignoring his ship for the rest of the night, he glues his eyes to the screen, ready to absorb all the knowledge he can. He lets out a long-held breath as the title fades onto the screen.

_Beefing up for Beginners_

\---

Rose knew, when she found her way back to him, that she may not be coming back to a romantic relationship. Had assumed not, actually.

She had made a deal with herself, before the final jump, that if he didn’t explicitly return the affections she’d so vulnerably confessed on that beach, she would never bring it up again.

The first couple weeks, the Doctor had made a few honest attempts at romance: kisses, some trips that resembled dates. But she knew he wasn’t really into it: he never seemed quite comfortable, or at all interested in escalating it any further. He just wasn’t himself. And she was certainly not going to make a move herself, to force him to do anything he didn’t really want to do.

Rose figured the Doctor simply felt bad for everything that had happened. There was no hiding that she was in love with him anymore, and she had risked her life clawing her way across dimensions for him, and got saddled with this immortality thing. Whether out of guilt, gratitude, or a sense of penance, he was just trying to give her what he thought she wanted. Because the truth is, if he truly returned her feelings, he would have said so by now.

And that’s fine. Her coming back wasn’t contingent upon that. Love isn’t so selfish.

His attempts had tapered off, and she was a bit relieved that he wasn’t killing himself trying to appease her anymore.

But the problem is, even with the unrequited love snafu behind them, the Doctor is still not himself.

He’s been acting, well… downright odd.

There was that morning a couple weeks back, when she walked into the kitchen to find the Doctor sitting at the table with a plate full of about a dozen scrambled eggs, actively wolfing them down with slice of toast from a tall stack on a second, smaller plate. The fact that he chose eggs was odd in itself, because he usually opts for pancakes or biscuits with jam or something else sweet. But she had also never seen him eat so much, or so fast. And what he had to say for himself was the weirdest part of all.

“Hungry?” she asked, jokingly, hoping he would offer an explanation in response.

“I need proper fuel in the mornings. Protein,” he added, shoveling in another bite.

“But you never eat eggs in the morning,” she countered.

“I just… usually eat them before you wake up, that’s all.” A few flecks of egg flew out of his mouth as he spoke, and she cringed a little.

“Oh… kay.” She turned around, and headed to the pantry to get a box of cereal. She made herself a quick batch of tea and poured milk into her cereal, and sat at the far end of the table to avoid another spray, but otherwise let the subject drop. Maybe he was just really hungry that morning.

But then there was the other afternoon, when he had abruptly left her in the library while they were working on a puzzle, claiming he had some quick maintenance work to do on the console. He had insisted that she keep on working, because he would be right back. But when an hour passed with no sign of him, she had gone looking for him in the console, and he wasn’t there.

She roamed the halls for a few minutes, hoping the TARDIS would guide her to the right place, and he burst out of a closed door just as she passed by, almost slamming into her as he raced out of it.

They both gasped out each other’s names at the same time as they narrowly avoided a collision.

“What are you doing back here?” he asked.

“What are _you_ doin’ back here?” she countered.

He wasn’t dressed like he was doing maintenance. In fact, he was wearing clothes she’d never seen him wear before: a pair of track pants and a baggy t-shirt. His face was pink, there was a little sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his breathing was a bit labored. Almost like he was just on a run, not tinkering around.

“Maintenance, yeah, just… This is a, uhm, maintenance room. Yep.” He nodded, closing the door to that room behind him. But he was talking too fast and stuttering too much for her to believe him.

“Why are you wearin’... that?” she gestures down to his unusual wardrobe.

“Didn’t want to get grease on my suit.” He shrugs, like that should’ve been obvious, even though she’s never seen him wear anything but his suit to do even the messiest of tasks before. “Anyway, gonna go change and freshen up, meet you back in the library in a tick, hmm?”

Before she could even answer, he had brushed past her and ran down the hall towards his room.

She had, of course, tried to open the mysterious door he left behind, but it was locked.

And again, she hadn’t brought it up with him. The Doctor was just odd sometimes, and she didn’t want to start an argument over something stupid. Not after everything they’d been through.

Oh, but then there was that time he had insistently called her into his room, something he _rarely_ does anyway, and when she walked through the open door, the first thing she saw were his pinstriped trousers sticking out from under his bed. He was lying on the floor, the top half of his body underneath his bed, lifting up the southern two bed posts clean off the floor while he inspected something underneath the wooden frame.

When she informed him she had arrived, he only to ask her to hand him his sonic screwdriver.

Rose knew the Doctor was strong – he’d picked her up without much effort a few times now, and never struggled with even heavy duty TARDIS repairs that required large parts or machinery. So it wasn’t that she wasn’t worried he’d drop it and hurt himself. She was, however, a bit worried he’d gone barmy. There seemed to be plenty of room under the bed to be able to see everything adequately without lifting it up. And on top of that, she knew for a fact he always kept the sonic in his jacket, and he was _wearing_ his jacket. The situation was so excessively unusual, for a second, she almost thought she’d fallen asleep somewhere and was dreaming.

Spotting the screwdriver on the floor by his armoire, she snapped out of her trance and picked it up, rolling it underneath the bed where he could reach it.

“Can you grab it while you’re holdin’ this up like that?” she got on her knees and looked under the bed to get a look at his face. He did look somewhat normal, despite his position.

“Oh, yeah, just watch me.”

He proceeded to shift the entire weight of the frame beneath one hand, and pick up the screwdriver with the other. It whirred to life with a burst of blue light.

“What are you even trying to fix?” she asked.

“Oh, there’s a loose screw down here. I can hear it rattling around when I move too much.”

“Huh,” she had replied, mostly just to herself.

It had only taken about five seconds for him to finish his task, and set the bed down, wriggled out from under it, and skipped out of the room before she could stand up. He called after her, saying it was time to get going for the day, but she lagged behind, crawling towards the bed and slipping underneath it to examine the supposed screw he’d fixed.

But there were no visible screws or nail heads to be found. The way it was assembled, they all must be on different sides of the structure.

Very, very odd.

But _so_ odd, she thought, that it wasn’t something she could bring up with him over dinner, either.

_Hey, I snuck under your bed and didn’t see any screw. Why’d you fake fixing your bed, huh???_

That’d only invite disaster.

So she carried on in confusion for a little while longer.

Tonight, though, as she walks into the library at the precise time she and the Doctor were supposed to meet up after they’d washed up for the night – she finds him in yet another strange situation. He’s sitting on his favorite cushion on the couch, completely shirtless. His trousers are still on, but all her attention goes straight to his bare chest. There’s a book in his lap, but when he looks over and sees her, he throws it to the side.

“There you are!” he says, leaping to his feet with a smile. He just stands there, though, stretching his arms over his head and then out to the side, one at a time, and then rolls his shoulders.

She almost never sees him stretch. Actually, she’d once asked him, and he had absently explained that his muscles didn’t get stiff as easily as humans’ did.

“What are you doin’?” she asks, amazed that the words come out clearly.

“Reading.” He making another show of pulling his arms back and stretching them out behind him, making every fiber of muscle in his torso protrude a little. Come to think of it, he does look a little more toned than the last time she’d seen him shirtless, though that was a long time ago. But the behavior is so out of the ordinary that Rose can’t appreciate the view.

“Okay… right. And what happened to your shirt?”

“Got a little warm in here, that’s all.” He shrugs, like it’s completely ordinary for him to shred his clothes.

“You got warm, an’ took your shirt off,” she sums up his explanation slowly, dumbfounded.

“Yeah,” he says simply.

“You sick or somethin’?” she asks.

“What do you mean?” he asks, screwing up his face like he has no idea what she’s talking about. He crosses his arms over his chest, and she swears he’s flexing every muscle he’s got.

“You’re actin’ silly,” she lets out a breathy little chuckle.

The Doctor’s arms drop to his sides, and he looks affronted.

“And the last time you were actin’ like this it was because you had that nasty viral Gallifreyan fever,” she continues.

 “I… what?” He enunciates the ‘t’ like he only does when he’s properly upset. Or confused. Or both. “Silly?” he repeats, forlorn. She doesn’t know if she’s ever seen him look so crestfallen.

“Doctor, what is up with you?” she asks, equally confused as he is now.

“It’s not silly, it’s… oh, never mind…” he waves his hand angrily before he strides quickly past her and out of the library.

Rose chases after him, but he’s too fast.

She figures he’s gone to his room, but when she finally makes her way there and tries to open his door, it’s locked.

The Doctor has always done some weird things from time to time. But these past couple weeks, she’s been well and truly bewildered by his behavior. There’s no rational explanation for it. Did he get dosed with something? Is he sick? The shortness of breath – respiratory infection? Change in dietary habits – maybe a stomach thing? The mental lapse with the invisible bed screw – maybe a fever making him loopy? He took off most of his usual layers like he had a fever. Maybe that is what it is, but the Doctor doesn’t want to admit it. He had embarrassed himself quite a bit, the last time he had one.

Even if it’s not the fever, something is seriously going on with him, and she has to figure out what it is. But with him so unwilling to talk to her about whatever it is, she knows she’s going to need some help.

The TARDIS comes to mind first, but when Rose beseeches her for assistance getting through to him, the TARDIS politely declines. She respects the Doctor’s privacy too much, it seems, to let Rose into a room where she isn’t wanted.

Suddenly she checks the date on her phone (synced up with her Earth timeline). It’s the seventeenth of the month – the night before they’re scheduled to swing by London and pick up Donna. What if Rose just went and got her a bit early? She might know what’s going on. Or at least be able to offer a fresh perspective. And even if she can’t help Rose figure it out, she may at least be able to knock some sense into him and get him to talk. She has a no-nonsense approach to conversation with him.

Even if they don’t make progress on the mystery with the Doctor, it would at least be nice to have someone to talk to about everything.

Rose heads to the console room to check their location. To her surprise, they’re not floating in the Vortex like they usually do during the evenings. They’re in London. Had the Doctor landed them back on Earth earlier – or did the TARDIS do it just now, sensing Rose’s plan before it had even fully formed? It wouldn’t be the first time the TARDIS had done something for Rose before she realized she needed it.

Rose sends a few waves of gratitude to the ship, just in case it was her, then pulls out her phone and selects Donna’s number from her Favorites list.

As the line rings, Rose crosses her fingers that she can pop over right away.

\---

The Doctor frowns at himself in the bathroom mirror.

Even with hours to recover from what happened, he’s still mortified. Not only did Rose not notice the 2.5 centimeters of muscle mass he’d put on in the last three weeks, or seem _remotely_ interested in looking at him shirtless, but she actually said he looked silly.

Silly.

He had been proud of his progress, until tonight.

It’s not as easy for Gallifreyans to gain body mass as it is for humans, he’s discovered. He’s more inclined to simply pack additional power and energy into the same space, rather than add additional mass to store it in. Considering it had only been three weeks, he thought it was impressive that he’d gained anything at all. He thought it was noticeable, anyway. Mostly in his chest and triceps. And the scale agreed with him: one and a half kilograms heavier.

But who was he kidding? He still doesn’t look anything like that Totem pole bloke. Why’d he even bother? 

He should just accept that he and Rose are only friends now. It’ll be less humiliating that way.

He puts his several shirts and suit jacket back on, and heads for his bedroom door, intending to do some actual maintenance. No use heading to the gym anymore.

It’s late enough Earth time that Rose must have given up searching after him and gone to bed by now. He should have until morning to prepare to face her again.

But before he’s gone ten steps out his bedroom door, he hears voices coming from down the hall. _Voices_ , plural. Definitely not just Rose talking to herself, either.

Is that?… no.

He walks down the corridor as fast as he can without his trainers making any noise, and as the voices get louder, he only becomes more certain of the identity of the guest.

Donna.

He loiters around the corner of the kitchen door, listening.

To his surprise, they aren’t talking about him. Donna is telling Rose about her latest trip to Paris. Winning the lottery really did the Noble family good: even when she isn’t traveling the universe with them, her family is traveling the Earth.

Before too long, he gets bored with hearing about the trip, and steps into the doorframe.

Donna’s back is turned, but Rose is facing his way, and her head snaps up to look at him, looking surprised that he emerged at all.

Donna turns around to see what Rose is looking at.

“Donna?” he announces with faux surprise.

“Bout time you showed up, space man,” Donna says in greeting. “Glad you put your shirt back on,” she adds.

He winces, putting a hand over his eyes.

Rose already told her everything, then.

He finds himself wishing he was born with an aptitude for teleportation rather than telepathy.

“Come on in and have a cuppa with us,” Donna says, unfazed by his reaction, waving him inside.

“Got some work to do,” he lies, struggling to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “You and I can catch up later?”

He doesn’t wait for her answer before he strides away quickly back towards his room. The console room is too out in the open, and he doesn’t want to risk being ambushed by the two of them later on.

They both call after him, and he can hear a hint of remorse in their voices. But he doesn’t care.

He almost makes it back to his room, too, with no sign of either of them on his trail. But unexpectedly, just as he rounds the last bend and pushes open his door, Donna sneaks up behind him, hollering his name.

“Wha – how did you!?” he throws himself inside the room and tries to shut the door, but she leaps through the gap behind him, and he closes the door with her on the wrong side.

“How did you do that?” he asks, whinging a bit.

“I don’t know” She shrugs, giddy. “Think the TARDIS may have helped. She likes me.” She preens, smiling up at the ceiling.

The Doctor rolls his eyes. She always sides with the women.

“Nice to see you, too, by the way,” Donna spits out in his direction, clearly feeling snubbed.

“Sorry.” He can hear the apathy in his voice. “Just not in the mood for talking at the moment.”

“Well, tough.” She points to the bed, commanding him to sit.

He drags his feet across the carpet toward the bed, knowing it’s useless to try to argue with Donna.

“What’s going on?” she asks once he slumps down. “Rose thinks you’re acting weird.”

“I know,” he says, mopey and derisive.

“You don’t think you are?”

“I was not attempting to act weird, no. I was…” he stops himself before he reveals too much, wondering whether it’s a good idea to tell her the truth. Will she just laugh and call him silly, too?

“You were what?”

He sighs angrily. “Let me just start at the beginning.”

He gives her a brief summary of what led him to this point: the relationship standstill, the Blu-ray disc, the talk with Jack, the weeks of weight lifting and stuffing his face with twice the food he usually does. And finally, the confrontation in the library.

When he finishes, Donna is silent for longer than he expected. Her eyes are closed, and she’s shaking her head. Like any second now she’s going to explode and yell at him for being incredibly stupid. It definitely looks like one of those times.

“Oh, you dumbo,” she says as she finally opens her eyes.

Yep, he was right.

She gets up and thumps him across the back of the head with her palm, hard enough to really rattle his head.

“Ow!”

“Am I gonna have to intervene in your relationship forever?” She’s pacing his room now, her hands in the air, basically shouting.

“What is it? What did I do so wrong? I tried being romantic, it didn’t work!”

“She isn’t watchin’ movies with sexy blokes because she doesn’t fancy you, idiot! She’s watchin’ them because she DOES FANCY YOU! She’s so sexually frustrated she needs a bloody outlet for it!”

“What???”

For a long moment, he can’t form a coherent sentence, either out loud or in his head. The only thought he has is an endless string of question marks.

“D’you really think she’s that shallow?” Donna continues when he doesn’t respond in any meaningful way. “For whatever reason I cannot understand, she’s arse over bloody elbow for you. She doesn’t want you to get chiseled. She loves you the way you are.”

Oh.

Really?

“So she… does want to be with me… like that?”

“Oh, bleeding...” She stops herself before she says whatever curse word she was about to say, and puts her fingertips on the side of her head, willing herself to calm down. Her hands are practically shaking with frustration. Yikes, he really must be thick. “Yes,” she draws out the word, exasperated.

Right.

But. Then…

“Then what… erm…” He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. “Why hasn’t she… you know…”

 “She doesn’t know you love her back. You never said! I can’t believe you never said!!!” She throws her hands up again, looking like she could throttle him.

The Doctor’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head.

“She thinks I don’t… _WHAT?_ ”

All this time, she _was_ waiting for him to make a move… he just hadn’t made the right one? He had no idea that needed saying so badly. It was implicit, he thought. He’d done so much to show her (or so he thought) what she meant to him, he had no idea three little English words were weighing on her heart so heavily.

“You do, though, don’t you?” Donna asks, a little calmer now. “I mean, you spent the entire time I was with you talking about her – Rose this, Rose that – but, it’s worth double checking. Nothing’s changed, right? You still love her?”

“Of course I do. Yes.” He nods forcefully, swallowing down a sudden wave of nausea and anxiety.

“Well, go!” She thrusts her index finger at the door. “Tell her, fix it!”

“Right. Yes. Of course.” He nods again, but doesn’t budge from where he’s standing. Just stares at the door, as though it’ll come to him.

“While I’m young!” Donna shoos him towards the door with both hands, and it spurs him into action. He springs across the room, throwing open the door and shouting Rose’s name down the hall before he can second guess himself again.

Having heard his call, Rose meets him halfway between his room and the kitchen. He almost runs into her again around a sharp turn.

“Hey,” she takes his arm, and looks concerned. “Where’d you run off to again? Where’s Donna, did you see her?” She peers around the Doctor, searching for Donna.

“Rose, listen.” He readjusts their hands so he can hold both of hers in both of his. “I was talking with Donna. And there are a few things I need to tell you.”

“Okay…” She looks nervous that whatever it is will be bad news, so he starts off without hesitating again.

“A few weeks ago, I found that film in the player in the media room. The one about the strippers.”

“What, _Magic Mike_?”

“That’s the one.”

“Didn’t realize I left that in there. Sorry. Know it’s not your sort of film, ‘s why I didn’t watch it with you.”

“Don’t worry. But look, I know it’s stupid, but, the blokes in that film are a lot more muscular than I am. And when I saw that, I thought… I was worried that, you didn’t fancy me anymore.”

“Doctor, that’s –” Rose starts to interrupt, but he stops her.

“I know. Donna told me. But it’s what I thought at the time. I thought maybe, you didn’t think I was big enough for you. I stopped in Cardiff and talked with Jack, and he suggested that my hunch might be right.”

Rose covers her mouth with her hand, preventing herself from interrupting him again, or else hiding whatever emotion she’s feeling.

“So I got a training video and started lifting weights in the TARDIS gym. I was hoping you’d notice I was getting stronger. But it didn’t take me long to realize my plan wasn’t working. All you did was laugh at me and ask me if I was sick.” It still hurts a little now, in retrospect, but now that he knows Rose doesn’t find him pathetic it’s a little easier to handle. “But that’s why I was acting differently, anyway.”

Rose gives him a few seconds, to make sure he’s said all he wanted to say.

“Doctor, I am really sorry you went through all that. I’ll be honest, I had no idea that’s what you were doing,” she confesses. “But whatever Donna said, she’s probably right. I definitely don’t need you to bulk up. Or even want you to.”

“No?”

“Nope.” She shakes her head resolutely.

He ponders that for a moment, encouraged.

“And you don’t think I’m shrimpy?”

“No,” she giggles. “Where’d you even hear that?”

“Jack.” He pouts.

“Well, next time we see him, I’ll slap him for that.”

“I’d like that.” The Doctor gives her a proper smile.

“I can’t believe you thought I didn’t fancy you just because you found one stupid movie.”

“Those blokes are proper fit, Rose.”

“Yeah, I mean, they’re nice to look at. It’s fun. But… that’s it. It’s not like I fancy them.”

“You don’t?”

“No.” She laughs, incredulous.

“But they’re so… manly.”

“You are, too…” she says, running a hand down his tie. “In your own way.”

He can’t help the shiver that goes down his spine as she does that.

“Then… why’d you laugh at me, before?”

“Because, Doctor. All that stuff you were doing, that wasn’t you. It was obvious something was up. I was too busy worrying about what might be wrong to spend much time admiring your muscles. If you’d just told me the truth, I might have reacted differently.”

Woah. There goes that shiver again. Whew. He wipes his brow a little.

“Yeah?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Well…” she backpedals a little, downplaying her interest. “I dunno. Definitely possible. But anyway… thank you for finally telling me. Please don’t feel the need to continue your workout regimen for my sake.”

“That is a relief.”

“So, was that, er… all you wanted to tell me?” That disappointment he’s become used to flits across her face again.

He just hopes what he has to say next will make it disappear.

“Just one more thing, actually.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” A tiny smile brings just a little bit of hope to her eyes.   

“What you said…. On the beach. Just before we ran out of time. Is that still… I mean, do you still…”

“Yes.” She doesn’t hesitate or pretend it isn’t true, and it makes his hearts flutter like mad in his chest. Oh, Donna was telling the truth. Logically he knew she was, but… hearing it from Rose herself is something else. Her gaze falls to his tie, and she squeezes the hand still in hers almost too hard, getting nervous that he’s taking so long. But the Doctor lets her hand go, so he can wrap both his arms around her waist instead. He pulls her in closer until he can almost touch her forehead with his nose.

“Rose Tyler.” He smiles softly as her eyes meet his. “I love you too. So much.”

Gripping onto the lapels of his jacket, Rose brings his mouth down against hers.

For the first time ever, _she_ kisses _him_.

And it’s even more brilliant than he dreamed it would be.


End file.
